Pedagogy in Crisis: Goodbye Art Cart, Goodbye Dramatic Play, Goodbye Puppets

Today was the first day of my twenty-fifth year in the classroom.

I wore my mask on my face and a button with my face on it.  Upon admittance to the building and my classroom, I found tables and desks set up spaced six feet apart with all of the other furniture pushed against the walls and stacked upon cabinetry. After early morning PD, I was sent back to the room (will I be teaching here in a month, or stationed elsewhere as a remote learning instructor? Who knows.), ate lunch, and then started my assignment: determine what remaining furniture, if any, could still be used, and remove all of my own personal belongings and all cloth items from the room.  Furniture to be stored had to be labeled and put in a central location within the classroom so it wouldn't clog up the hallway.

I might have been able to maintain some semblance of stoicism for the remainder of the afternoon, but a dear friend walked into my room, and it was all I could do to not sob. After drying some tears (crying and having one's nose run behind a mask is NOT an ideal situation), I pushed through to problem-solving mode: what do I need to keep? What must I send to storage?  What must I take home? How can I provide visual cues to students (who I may or may not have in-person) so they know where to keep their very moveable individual desks (one solution would be Sit Spots on the floor, one marking the upper right desk leg and the other marking the lower-left desk leg) as we attempt to maintain social distancing requirements?

But being the first day of my twenty-fifth year of teaching, I recognized that I am being required to do exactly what I have fought doing for my entire career: I must work against my students' very nature, coach and praise them against how they learn best, and constantly redirect them from their very selves.  And if I manage to do it "successfully," I know that there are other teachers and possibly even administrators who would find the arrangement of kindergarten students sitting face-forward in straight rows for seven hours each day at desks ideal, even desirable post-pandemic.  I'm experiencing a pedagogical crisis.

Here is the furniture to be removed:

Goodbye art cart.  Goodbye alphabet rug.

Goodbye Dramatic Play/"House" Center.

Goodbye lightbox, Lego table, and painting easel.

Goodbye reading table.  Goodbye Play-Doh table, and math table, and writing center table.

Goodbye discovery table with the roadway on one side of the flippable topper and a farm scene on the other.

The wooden barn and dollhouse will sit high atop the upper cabinetry, stored, but not out of sight.  Students will wonder why they are there, and why they are out of reach.  If I'm not reassigned, my class set of scoop seats will join the barn and dollhouse.  So will whatever extras might fit that we won't be allowed to use... but students will see them.  And wonder.

As for the personal belongings that I have to bring home, here's the first load:

Kindergarten will have no resting mats.  

No storytime chair. No mini couch or chairs. 

No shopping cart. No puppets, no apple basket tree to hold them.  

No stuffed animals to "buddy read" to. 

No balance beam.  No stepping stones.  No sensory bin.

No side table for plants or book displays.  

No rolling cart for lunch box and snack bag collection. 

Kindergarten not being kindergarten is supposed to pass as a solution this year, but a developmentally inappropriate learning environment will never be the correct answer. 

I am grieving. 

Instincts and Urges

It's summer and this is the week traditionally when I would be back in my classroom arranging furniture, freshening up bulletin board displays, pulling stuffed animals, manipulatives, journals, tubs, books and other items from cabinetry and sitting down at my reading table to take a break, eat lunch, and survey the progress.  There's usually music playing through the surround-sound speaker system, my door is wide open for colleagues to come through if any are around, and it's either sunny and hot or storming like crazy outside my classroom windows, making me wonder if I'll be navigating around downed trees once I leave the building. Even last year after my surgery my teenager was able to help me sort through things and prep.  An angel of a colleague arranged all of my furniture so I wouldn't strain myself. 

Last week I got to see a video of my classroom, completely cleaned, and that same old urge automatically kicked in. I wanted to walk back inside, stand immediately within the door, and just look, slowing scanning my room from left to right, up and down, and back again. Bookcase, SMART Board, dry erase board, check. Calendar, storytime chair, book display, ELA tubs, check. Word wall, student chairs, writing table, center toys, check. Apple basket stand for puppets, dramatic play kitchen set, baby doll cradle, math bulletin board, check. Bookcase, round math table, manipulatives, rolling cart, check.  Art cart, desktop laminator, paint, glue, crates of craft mock-ups sorted by month, check.  Easel, play-doh table, carpet, sink, paint rack, Pete the Cat sitting in a wreath gifted to me by a Super Star family, check. Handwashing station, birthday bulletin board display, and way up high, above all of the built-in cabinetry, tchotchkes and keepsakes accumulated from over two decades of teaching in Alaska, New Mexico, and Kansas... check.  Door to a shared workroom/storage space, teacher desk, cabinetry, student lockers and cubbies, dollhouse table, check.  Rolled up carpets and students' tables stacked, rolling cart used for storage and at the end of each year- except for this year- yearbook distribution... check. Hooks hanging from clear fishing wire.  Check. I can imagine the laughter and buzz of students talking as my eyes track across our spaces.

I have also had the incredible urge to walk back into the classroom, empty all of the furniture into the hallway and shared space at the rear of the room where the bathrooms and iPad carts are located, measure out the actual floor space, and start pulling tables and chairs back into the room to measure some more and get a feel for what six feet apart all facing the same direction feels and looks like.  Tables and chairs have been in a wagon wheel or flower petal arrangement for several years now, which can't happen now. My go-to, when faced with a problem or situation requiring modifications and solutions, is to move furniture and be creative, taking inventory of what I have, and imagining new ways of using it all.  I've been watching all summer and have been seeking out photos and information about schooling and classroom arrangements shared by teachers from all around the world.  Articles and tweets about the happiness of being reunited with students, the smell of disinfectant permeating the air and face coverings, the adjustment being more difficult for adults than children and the touchy-feely declarative posts of "I just have to be here no matter what" do nothing to reduce my urges to cry or feel nauseous.

I've wondered if plexiglass dividers would work across the middle of each of my student tables, and should they be too expensive if creating dividers using clear shower curtain liners, PVC pipe and foam strips for a gasket-type seal would serve instead. I've wondered if I need to replace the fabric curtains that cover most of my lower cabinetry with vinyl or plastic of some sort, so they're easier to clean.  I've purchased Ziploc baggies with sliders and plastic lidded containers with divided sections of various sizes to see if they'd be efficient and easy for kindergarteners to access and store math manipulatives daily.  I've priced individual book totes in anticipation of students not being able to select, share or trade books to look through. I've purchased new tongs, long and short, for selecting items from bins without using our hands and for picking up the tissues, disposable masks and other garbage that will end up on the floor or left on desks.  I've tried different masks and bought safety glasses to see if there is any combination that isn't overly uncomfortable, sweat producing, or too scary for young children.   I've bought masks with our school mascot on them.  I've ordered new sit spots shaped like stars and colored carpet tape for delineating spaces and suggesting traffic patterns.  

Despite all of these deeply ingrained habits and urges, my instinct, just as it did in May, continues to tell me to stay away from the classroom.  Guidance about social distancing aside, it's always been my job to create a learning environment that appeals to young children, that communicates our classroom is a safe space to which they should want to return day after day and that parents also find reassuring.  I could shift decor and manipulatives to all laminated, disinfectant-friendly items.  But the safety implied, if it could effectively be so without our puppets and stuffed animals and shared spaces and hugs, would be a lie.  Acting-as-if and putting on a brave face aren't markers of professionalism during a pandemic, despite society believing them sufficient in the case of fires, tornados, earthquakes and school shootings.  

It's not lost on me that my money might have been better spent on purchasing a large dry erase board to help set up space at home from which I could teach, no masks required.  But as usual, my instinct and urge have been to anticipate and prepare for the worst while hoping for the best.  I just wish the worst wasn't so very, very bad this year.

No Tears and No Fears: What I've Communicated to My Students and Families

As a Kansas teacher, I've been asking myself a LOT of questions since Tuesday afternoon when our state officially closed school buildings. After spending the rest of Tuesday trying with little success to pick my jaw up off of the floor, I awoke Wednesday determined to enter a more productive state of mind.  Having the luxury of a few more days on spring break, I began to wonder "What do I say?" and "How do I say it?" to my students and their families, because we are not done with this school year, no siree Bob. 

Surfing social media, there are a lot of other teachers in the same boat, acknowledging the need and their desire to reassure their students and families, but not knowing quite how. Those of us with our own children now at home have needed some reassurance too. When I stumbled across this gentle reminder, it helped to ground me, refocusing my attention to my purpose as both a parent and an educator:

Young children don't need any more scares, frights or worries, and it's not my place as my Super Stars' teacher to weigh them down with uncertainty.  Here's what I sent to them earlier today, no tears and no fears:

Hello again, Super Stars and Super Star Families!


Parents,

Though we are all still technically on "spring break," I thought I'd quickly check in to touch base and let you know that I am looking forward to our return to learning and sharing in whatever forms they may take for the remainder of the school year. This week I have been collecting digital/online resources for you and our Stars, exploring digital platforms such as SeeSaw, Google Classroom, Padlet, and Zoom, and have also toyed with the idea of creating a closed Facebook Group for our class use. When district administrators share the Kansas State Department of Education's plan for continuous learning with teachers, staff, and families, I will implement their directives in order to facilitate the creation of our new learning environment using the tools and resources that they recommend.


Super Stars,

Hello! I hope you don't mind that I am interrupting your vacation, but I just wanted to let you know that I have been thinking about you a lot this week! I have been cleaning, working on the yearbook, cuddling with my cats Buck and Tish-Tish, crocheting (my Wildly Important Goal or "WIG"), and creating Symbaloo webmixes like the ones that we use on our SMART Board for you to use at home. I've included some of our dance songs, some Cosmic Kids Yoga videos, reading and math tiles, and even cool videos and directed drawing lessons about BUGS! I'll email those to your parents when they're ready.

I haven't been dressing like a teacher this week, in fact, I've been pretty slouchy. I wore jammies on Monday and Tuesday, and leggings and a t-shirt yesterday and today. I've even been wearing silly pink shoes that don't match anything that I wear:

Have you had pajama days this week? We'll have to think of some fun clothing days for when we begin learning online.

I'm also going to spend this weekend trying to decide where I am going to set up my teaching space at home. I don't think I'll use the kitchen, because we still have to cook, bake and clean in there. As much as I'd like to use my back porch, it can get really windy and wet out there, and my allergies wouldn't like it very much. Maybe I'll use my craft room, even though it's full of yarn and my silly collections. While I set up my teaching space, you can help your family set up your learning space! Think about what will make you comfortable and what will be fun to use:

A table or desk and chair
A cushion for the chair if the seat is hard
A cozy spot for looking at books
Room on the floor for yoga and dance
A drawer, cubby or shelves for paper
A cup, container or pencil box/pouch for crayons, pencils, and a mini-sharpener
A wall or door to hang up your artwork, schedule, charts and other papers
A container for glue, scissors, glue sticks and tape (this container should probably be kept out of reach of little brothers and sisters)
A bag of twenty small items to use as counters for math (20 medium-sized lego pieces, 20 plastic spoons, or anything that isn't a choking hazard)
A tray, binder or folder for unfinished work so you can find it quickly
A quiet stuffed animal who can rest on your desk while you work or sit with you while you look at books and listen to stories
A basket or drawer for recyclable items such as small cardboard boxes, tubes, newspaper (these are great for crafts and engineering)
A basket or tub for plastic lids (off of milk cartons, laundry detergent, or other non-toxic items: wash and dry them before adding them to the tub) that can be used for crafts, games, counting, and building

Just as we always put away our center materials and toys and clean our mess in our classroom at school each day, we'll be making sure our learning spaces at home are also clean and ready for the next day's learning. This will be my first WIG for teaching at home, and you are welcome to use it for your learning spaces at home too.


"I will clean my learning space at the end of school activities every day."


We will brainstorm strategies together for how we will accomplish this goal, okie dokie, artichoke-y?


*****


Finally (for now), here's a sweet poem that I found earlier this morning about this new adventure we're sharing together:

(Poem found here)

Enjoy the rest of your spring break, and feel free to let your Star check back in with me as needed,


Mrs. Sommerville


*****

Adopt and adapt my parent and student message if you'd like as you begin this transition. Like me, you won't have all the answers, and you certainly won't have thought of every single question to ask about how we'll navigate what will become the new normal of teaching and learning.  But...

Your students would love to hear from you...

...their parents will appreciate your positivity and suggestions, and...

... you'll feel better, too.